"No," remarked Mr. Rabbit, "I used to be well acquainted with Brother Buzzard, and when he's in the air he's longer from side to side than he is from end to end. I don't know when I've thought of Brother Buzzard before. I never liked him much, but I used to see him sailing around on sunshiny days, or sitting in the top of a dead pine drying his wings after a heavy rain. He cut a very funny figure sitting up there, with his wings spread out and drooping like a sick chicken. [Illustration: LITTLE MR. THIMBLEFINGER] "I remember the time, too, when he had a singing-match with Brother Crow, and I nearly laughed myself to death over it." "Oh, tell us about it," cried Buster John. "There's nothing in it when it is told," replied Mr. Rabbit. "There are some things that are funny when you see them, but not funny at all when you come to tell about them." "We don't mind that," said Sweetest Susan. "I don't know exactly how it came about," resumed Mr. Rabbit, after a pause, "but as near as I can remember, Brother Buzzard and Brother Crow met with each other early one morning in a big pine-tree. They howdied, but there was a sort of coolness between them on account of the fact that Brother Buzzard had been going about the neighborhood making his brags and his boasts that he could outfly Brother Crow. They hadn't been up in the tree very long before they began to dispute. Brother Buzzard was not a very loud talker in those days, whatever he may be now, but Brother Crow could squall louder than a woman who has been married twenty-two years. And so there they had it, quarreling and disputing and disturbing the peace." "What were they quarreling about?" Buster John inquired. "Well," replied Mr. Rabbit, "you know the road that leads to Brag is the shortest route to Bluster. Brother Buzzard and Brother Crow were quarreling because they had been bragging, and a little more and they'd have had a regular pitched battle then and there. "'Maybe you can outfly me, Brother Buzzard,' says Mr. Crow, 'but I'll be bound you can't outsing me.' "'I have never tried,' says Brother Buzzard, says he. "'Well, suppose you try it now,' says Brother Crow. 'I'll go you a fine suit of clothes, and a cocked hat to boot, that I can sit here and sing longer than you can,' says he. "'Oh, ho!' says Brother Buzzard, 'you may sing louder, but you can't sing longer than I can,' says he. "'Is it a go?' says Brother Crow. "'It's a go,' says Brother Buzzard, says he. "'It's no fair bet,' says Brother Crow, 'because you are a bigger man than I am, and it stands to reason that you have got more wind in your craw than I have, but I shall give you one trial if I split my gizzard,' says he. "Yes," remarked Mr. Rabbit, scratching his head thoughtfully, "those were the very words he used--'if I split my gizzard,' says he. Well, they shook hands to ratify the bet, and then Brother Crow, without making any flourishes, raised the tune,--